Don't Drink the Water
by Galaxy Little
Summary: It was the final round. The BLUs were down to three people but the REDs stayed at a strong nine. BLU team's Sniper and Medic were down, and their Scout was struggling to survive. Only one point was left to cap, which RED team's Pyro was taking care of. They were going to finish up for the day, until the RED's Medic got an idea. (Medic/Everyone fanfic - mainly for humor purposes)
1. Part 1 - The Problem

It was the final round. The BLUs were down to three people but the REDs stayed at a strong nine. BLU team's Sniper and Medic were down, and their Scout was struggling to survive. Only one point was left to cap, which RED team's Pyro was taking care of. They were going to finish up for the day, until the RED's Medic got an idea.

Medic recruited his Engineer and Heavy to assist him in destroying the water tower that their current battlefield sat next to. At first, they were apprehensive - as they always were when ever the doctor has some crazy scheme - but they gradually complied. The three left around the time BLU team was down to five people, but those numbers dwindled quickly. By the time they reached the top of the hill the tower was located on, they had already won, but the three mercs were too far away to notice.

Engineer created a device to attempt to loosen the water tower; basically a light explosive with a lift to assist. Heavy, after the device had been used, tried pushing on the water tower support beam, but it wouldn't even go past a few inches. After using and reusing the explosive and pushing under Medic's command, the two helpers abandoned the cause and left Medic to himself.

The frustrated doctor seethed, angrily kicking the water tower. It looked rusted and burnt enough, why wasn't this working!? He gives a huff and a pout and marches along the path he took. Stupid water tower and its stupid strong support beams. Just as he's about half-way down, a booming _snap _was heard, following by painful screeching and a loud _thump. _The ground began to quake and Medic rushed beyond the trees to see what was happening.

About 15 feet below, gallons of water rushed down the steep slope, headed right for the battlefield. The Medic gave a victorious laugh, watching the cracked water tower leak more tainted, precious fluids. Once the majority of the water had passed, he began making his way downward once more. Those BLUs would never see this coming - or at least they would have, if they were still alive. The RED team had already won, but with Medic being so far away, it was obvious he'd never get the message.

Medic reached the end of the path, only to find the entire battlefield drenched in water. His poor teammates, celebrating their victory, had failed to see the wave of water seeping quickly towards them. The water sunk into the parched desert grounds and spread out over the badlands at a considerable pace, leaving the REDs washed up in dirty mudwater. The Medic sloshed through the muck, his boots saving his feet from getting soggy.

He sloppily made it through the floodwater, hastily realizing the fatal flaw of his patch-work plan to quickly defeat the BLUs. The Scout and Spy heaved and coughed up the disgusting liquid, while the others failed to get up, some either too winded or too drowned to respond. Engie lazily glared at the doctor who just happened upon the scene, too out of it to scold him. Medic knew he was in for a heap of trouble once everyone came to, and wasted no time apologizing to his teammates, deciding to help them up.

* * *

It was a long day after their battle and the good doctor getting chewed out by their Administrator, until the team finally got to settle down.

"Aw, I smell like crap!" Scout weakly complained, coughing up a bit more fluid, "Ugh, I think I'm gonna have to get my stomach pumped, that's just so gross..."

"Ach yea," Demo rocked lightly back and forth, "I don' think tha' was healthy now, inhalin' that blasted bile."

"Says ze one 'o drinks 'is liver away…," Spy retorted, moaning underneath his breath in pain, rolling his eyes.

"For zhe last time," Medic sighed reluctantly, "Zhis vas not part of my plan, und I am deeply sorry."

"Doc," Engie held up a finger, looking down, "Jus' don't say another word."

"Bah…," Sniper finished throwing up in a trashcan and hopped off of the gurney, "I'm headed to my van. See ya bastards later at ceasefire."

Everyone else took it as their cue to leave as well, either snarling at the doctor or waving goodbye to him. All that was left was Pyro and the mentally exhausted Medic. Said pyromaniac, after draining his suit in a private room, patted his friend on the back. He was barely affected by the tainted water wave, but his poor flamethrower was a different story. He mumbled something, probably reassuring Medic that he could always get things fixed, and they've had worse. But hey, it was anyone's guess what he was talking about.

Medic gave thanks to the masked mercenary for whatever he said as he slipped out of the room, leaving the German to himself in his infirmary. Only the cooing of doves and the humming of machines could be heard, and suddenly he felt a little more alone than desired. He decided, above all things, that he needed some rest, for once.

His clothing smelled awful, so he stripped himself to his basic underwear and threw what he had into his small washer/dryer combo, which he kept to himself. He replaced the clothes with nice, warm pajamas, and settled down on a clean gurney, comfortable and recharging himself for the next day.

* * *

By the time the next morning rolled around, the Medic woke up early, feeling slightly energetic for the day. It was ceasefire, due to it being a weekend, so this meant he could take as much time as he needed to figure his notes out for the next battle, and create new healing mechanisms for further experimentation. He loved ceasefire, but he loved actual battle even more, getting to test out his technology any time he wanted.

Medic arose, changing into yesterday's getup, save the labcoat. He breathed through his nose, content and giving a smirk, making his way to breakfast. The halls were eerily hushed as he walked through, half expecting to hear some of the classes arguing about who ate more of what, but instead was met with the noise of the wind howling outside, and some feet scuffling along the floorboards of their base. Perhaps he woke up too early? Even though the sun had already risen, and they would be up by now. _Probably a side-effect of the water_, he thought. No harm in that. They _were_ pretty sick.

The only thing he didn't like about waking up the earliest is that whoever made it to the kitchen first was the one who had to cook for the day. Of course he knew how to cook, it was just the fact that there were a lot of big mouths to feed, all with unique tastes and preferences. Medic was a _doctor_, not a _chef_. Still, he was getting rather hungry.

He was kinda surprised to see the Scout already there, making breakfast. Usually Scout woke up at the latest, fighting for that position with Demo, who almost always nurses a hangover around this time. When he does wake up early, he goes out for a jog or watches TV, and refuses to do the cooking.

"Scout, such a pleasant surprise!" Medic exclaimed, feeling unusually bright and cheery this morning, "Vhat is it you are making?"

"Oh, hey Doc!" Scout seemed unusual as well, giving the biggest grin the doctor had ever seen flashed at him, "I'm jus' makin' blueberry waffles, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Like, a looot of bacon."

Medic gave a chuckle.

"I know you don't like that stuff, so I just made you some toast, and only a few sausage links." Scout fumbled with the spatula, "I-Is that ok? Or would you rather have hash browns?"

"Ah no, it's fine, I can eat zhose zhings. Zhank you!" He smiled again, sitting in his usual chair at the table, "Tell me, vhat sparked zhis sudden interest in getting up early and cooking?"

"Oh, well, uh," For once in a long time, Scout seemed a little embarrassed to talk to him, shrugging and staring at the food, "You usually wake up around this time an' I figured you could use a hand, so yaknow, I wanted to help out."

He brought a plate with about four pieces of toast and three sausage links to the doctor, who gave a pleased reaction, and picked at it so delicately, taking small bites. He stopped chewing to look at the Scout, who was staring a bit awkwardly at him.

"Ja?" Catching his attention, Scout fumbled for the spatula, whipping around and blurting out a 'nothing!' before going back to work. Medic simply shrugged it off with a smirk. Silly Scout. Such a strange boy. You can never make heads or tails of what he's thinking, even for a boy with such a one-track mind.

It wasn't until Medic finished his plate and brought it to the sink that other mercenaries decided to join them. Whispering was heard outside - clearly Soldier and Demoman - and the American was pushed through the doors. He stumbled a bit before catching his balance and quickly saluted Medic, specifically, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"Good morning, Sir!" Soldier huffed, standing still in place.

"...Sir…?" Medic looked to Scout for answers he would not receive, as he merely shrugged back to him.

"Jus' come get your friggin' breakfast, Soldier." The Bostonian had no patience for him, for some reason. He was just fine with Medic.

"I don't take orders from speedy little rats like you!" He was quick to remind him, but sat down at the table anyways, just as Demoman scooted through the doorway.

"Hi there, doc." The cyclops managed to slur out, still obviously woozy from last night. Despite himself, he grinned up at him, cradling his head in one hand. He slightly nodded to the young boy in the room, smile faltering, "Scoot."

"Yeah, yeah." Scout rolled his eyes, handing big plates to the mercs.

"Vell," Medic breathed, smiling at everyone even though they were acting a bit strange, "I am going to go back to my lab. Keep up zhe good vork, Scout."

He patted him on the back as he replied, "Hey, thanks, Medic!"

The other two seemed disappointed that he was leaving, and motioned goodbye, their mouths already full of food. He gave a curt wave toward them and exited, making his way back to his infirmary.

* * *

"Ahem."

"Yes, Spy…," Medic mused, sighing to himself as the mercenary decloaked behind his desk, "Vhat is it you vant?"

"Notzing at all." Spy had that weird dreamy look in his eye, which Medic noticed as he turned around. The light failed to reach the corner the Spy stood in, leaving for an odd mixture of emotions to rise in the doctor, namely confusion and anxiousness. The Frenchman continued, "'Ow 'ave you been doing?"

"Vell, it has only been two hours since I voke up," Medic averted the awkward gaze, "Und so far, I have just been vorking on decoding zhe Respawn Machine. You know, like usual."

"Non, Docteur, I'd like to know 'ow you are _feeling_." Spy insisted, taking a cautious step forward.

He paused, questions arising in his mind, but he pushed them down, "I should be asking _you_ zhat, granted vhat happened yesterday."

"Ah, such a caring docteur." Spy snickered, "I am feeling much better, zhank you. Somewhat invigorated, if you will." He made way to sit upon an empty space on the cluttered desk, still giving him that look. A look that kills ladies. A look that says 'I'm ready for you'. A look of piqued interest, like a cat with a mouse. A look that he should _not_ be giving the doctor.

"Vhy are you really here?" Medic stared at the Spy, seeing through his facade. His teammate raised his eyebrows slightly, taking a deep sigh. Here, he started to pull out a cigarette, but politely put it back, glancing at the older man. He never really approved of smoking in his infirmary.

Finally, he replied, "'Ow do you feel about everyone else?"

"Odd question." The German man squinted his eyes, then went back to absent-mindedly sorting papers as he answered, "You are all my teammates. Vizhout everyvone, I vould not have a job, und I vould not have such villing test subjects. Technically speaking," Medic turned toward Spy, sneaking in a distracted smirk, "You are all my family."

"Hm." Spy was listening intently, arms crossed, still with the same expression. The doctor had no idea if he was really paying attention or not. Suddenly, he got up, moving towards the exit to cloak again, "Zhat is all I needed to 'ear."

"Okay…," Medic furrowed his brow, then shrugged, "Goodbye to you too."

He went back to sorting his papers, wondering about why his team was acting so strange. Was it his birthday? No, that was somewhere in October. It had to be something else. He secretly hoped there was a day to appreciate all doctors around the world, and today would be it, but he doubted it. Perhaps it was...no, that couldn't be...the very idea of it sounds ridiculous! He refused to think about it further.

Almost immediately after Spy left, a knocking came on his door. It was harsh but quick and short, the telltale sign that Sniper had arrived.

"Zhe door is open!" Medic cooed, folding his hands on his desk, awaiting the Australian's presence.

Sure enough, he quickly entered, clearing his throat, "Hey, doctor."

"Hallo." he replied with a prolonged blink, "I hope you are not going to stare at me as if I vas zhe last slice of cake."

The Sniper chuckled, "Nah, mate, I just came here for a check-up. Why, is everyone givin' you the googly-eyes?"

"How did you know?" Medic questioned flatly, raising an eyebrow as he glanced to the assassin, then moved to get up and around his desk.

"Lucky guess." Sniper shrugged, sitting on a nearby gurney, "If ya don't mind, I'd really like to get my stomach checked out."

"Did you zhrow up more?" The doctor sighed, slipping on a pair of latex gloves.

"Now see, that's the thing." He was lightly pushed onto the bed to lay flat on his back, "I felt nauseous all night, like my stomach was tryin' to digest somethin', but nothin' came up."

"I see." Medic did not hesitate lifting the Australian's shirt up to his chest, quickly running his fingers over his abdomen, "Really, it _is_ all my fault. I'm sorry zhis happened to you."

"Nah, forget about it. You've done worse things." His attempt at consolement fell on deaf ears.

"I mean, vhat vas I even zhinking? Drowning zhem out. Ja, as if my own team vouldn't get caught in zhe flood. Brilliant." The Medic sighed, stopping at a certain spot in the Aussie's side, "Zhat...does not feel good..."

"You're tellin' me!" Sniper griped through clenched teeth, clinging onto the sides of the gurney.

"Apologies." He swallowed hard, looking around the room, "Let me just find zhe x-ray equipment..."

As he searched, a curious mercenary peeked into the room. Failing to see Medic, but spotting Sniper quite quickly, the Engineer waltzed into the room, looking a bit disgruntled, "Hey there, Stretch."

"And wot the hell are you doin' here?" Sniper hissed, propped up on his elbows. He glanced to the supply closet in the infirmary, where Medic mumbled to himself in German, trying to find what should have been an obviously large machine.

"Now that's none'a your damn business." He folded his arms in a very un-Engineer-like fashion, peering down at the currently sickly man.

"If you so much as raise your tone to 'im," Sniper lifted his pointer finger at him, "Then you're gonna be-"

"Oh, hallo, Herr Engineer!" Medic called as he wheeled a foldable contraption out of the closet, many boxes of things like bandages and syringes toppling over in attempt to come with it, to which he promptly ignored them, "Did you come to see me in action?"

The Texan's mood instantly skyrocketed as he gave a hard laugh, "You could say that!"

"Zhat's so nice of you." Medic plugged in the x-ray machine and it whirred to life, "I really could use zhe company."

"Ah, it's nothin'." His smile looked a little dopey to the doctor, but everyone was acting weird today, most of them weirder, so he just shrugged it off.

"W-Well, wot about me?" Sniper piped up, gazing hopefully toward the Medic.

"Of course it is nice to have you here," he replied, flipping the large screen around and lowering it over his friend, "But currently, you are a patient."

"Well I guess, uh…," the marksman looked away, a little disheartened, "I-I guess that's alright."

A few switch-flips later and the x-ray machine was activated, taking pictures in the dim room and displaying results upon the little screen on the side. Medic quickly found out that Sniper was right, and he had accidentally swallowed a couple rocks. A surprised Engineer exclaimed "holy hell!" despite his earlier frustrations with his teammate.

"Ve are going to need to do surgery." The doctor patted Sniper's shoulder, albeit giving an awry, unsettling grin, like he always does when he suggests this.

"Oh, boy." He nervously flashed a smile, unsure of how to respond. Noticing Medic gathering tools and equipment, he got back up on his elbows, "You gonna do that now?"

"Vhy not? You're here, aren't you?" He huffed, wheeling Sniper over to the center of the room, under his mounted Quick Fix. He noticed the Engineer standing fixed in his spot, "Are you planning on staying?"

"I mean, if spendin' time with ya makes you happy," the Texan shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around for some distraction, "I don't see why not."

"If you say so!" Medic grinned, gloves off, scalpel with a ridiculously pointed blade in hand. Engie recoiled a bit at the sight of the utensil.

"Hold on, aren't you going to give me ane-" Sniper was cut off by a loud booming knock on the door, followed by it almost being busted off its hinges as it flung open.

"Doktor!" Of course it had to be Heavy, "Why are you in here?"

"Bitte, I am about to perform a very delicate procedure!" He lightly threw the utensil in his hand back to the table of tools it came from in frustration, "Vhat do you vant?"

"Yeah, who gave you the right to barge in on the Doc like that?" Engineer crossed his arms once more.

"You said you were going to spend time with me, on _this day_." The large Russian ignored the smaller man.

"Vhat? Vhen did I say…," Memories flashed back to him and he laughed softly, "Oh! Dear Heavy, zhat vas for your physical examination. It appears everyvone needs it after my...mishap, yesterday."

"Oh," Heavy nodded, glancing to the floor, "Da. I understand."

"Yeah, right now, he's spendin' time with me!" Sniper blurted, not paying attention to his words, "So just bugger off!"

"I vas about to perform surgery on you und you call zhat-," Medic raised an eyebrow, but was cut off by another voice coming from the entrance to his infirmary.

"Medic!" Oh great. Not _Soldier_. "I caught _this one_ sneaking around your office! _Do I have permission to punish him!?_"

The Soldier yanked the Pyro in by the back of his jumpsuit, hauling him inside. He stumbled, then shrunk back at Medic's stare, fidgeting with his gloves.

"Why don't you guys just get the _hell_ outta here!?" Engie piped up, becoming even more cross.

"Yeah, what he said!" Suddenly, Scout entered, "Everyone should leave this room, or I'm gonna make ya!"

"An' wot are you gonna do about it, pipsqueak?" Sniper retorted, sitting up despite himself.

"Don't make me-!" The boy was cut off by yet _another_ voice.

"Ayyy! Guess who got-," Demo burst into the infirmary with a case of unknown drinks, "Wait, what in th' bloody hell is everyone doin' here!?"

"Everyone needs to leave!" Heavy shouted in the clearly crowded room.

"Agreed." Medic buried his face in his hands at the Spy's entrance as he tugged on Scout and Soldier's ears, moving to leave, but was cut off as he bumped into Demo and promptly got shoved out of the way.

Suddenly, everyone was arguing, getting louder and louder, until the Medic couldn't take it anymore. He reached for his all-purpose shotgun - one of the many things he carried in his room, but merely grabbed it because it made the loudest noise - and fired it at the ceiling. The sharp bang, followed by Sniper yelping as a chunk of the ceiling came to meet him, got everyone's attention.

"VHAT IN ZHE HELL IS _WRONG_ VIS ALL OF YOU!?"


	2. Part 2 - Shot Through the Heart

((AN; First of all, thank ALL of you for the positive reviews. They really make me feel so much better about writing this fanfiction. I hope you guys have a nice day!))

* * *

After Medic's outburst, the other classes avoided his frustrated gaze, not wanting to make him angry. They promptly exited his room moments later after they apologized, save for Engie and Sniper, who still lie on the gurney.

"Do ya still want me to stay?" The Southerner, hands balled up in his pockets, shifted between his feet.

"Zhat is up to you." Medic, eyebrows scrunched up, set back to work. He flipped a couple switches on his Quick Fix, allowing it to emit a light beam capable of sustaining patients while under surgery. The Engineer nodded, shyly stepping back and leaving, allowing the doc his space.

"Oh good, he's gone...," Sniper muttered under his breath, not feeling the scalpel pierce his skin, "So, Doctor..."

"Ja." He replied with a distracted, uninterested tone, slowly making a straight incision.

"Well, I was just wonderin'," The marksman paused, "What are ya doin' today? Ya know, besides this n' all?"

"Oh, you know," a sigh escaped the German's mouth, going for another simple cut, "Papervork. Fixing my equipment up. Getting bored und vatching TV. Vhy? Are you planning something?"

"Ah, not really anythin' special." He felt a pressure on his abdomen and a dull pain, "Gahh—What are you doin'?! When did you start that!?"

"About eight minutes ago." Medic smirked, showing his teeth. With another small shove, he literally reached inside his teammate's stomach with one hand, holding him down with the other and his elbow, producing two rocks about half the size of his thumb, "Impressive! How zhese managed to get down you zhis far is somezhing to behold."

"Must'a been the water that washed it down." He laughed to himself, looking up to the Quick Fix as Medic used it to heal him all the way. It only lasted for a few seconds, being such a small, albeit deep cut. Sniper used a hand to rub the sealed spot before sitting up and replacing his shirt, muttering 'thanks'. Medic noticed his patients usually touched where they were healed as if they were going to fall apart again, and smiled. It was cute, in a baby rat kind of way.

"So," Medic cleaned his hands of the blood and filth that leaked onto him from the incision, "You vanted to do somezhing viz me today?"

"Er—Well, if it wasn't too much trouble, mate, we could just sit on the back deck," He shrugged, hopping off of the medical bed, "Listen to the radio, talk...'S up t'you, really."

"I see no problem in zhat." He breathed out of his nose, glancing at the papers on his desk, "I zhink a break could do me good."

* * *

"BOOM! Got it again!" Sniper laughed with Medic, who seemed very entertained by their little game. The doctor was hauling random objects into the air via slingshot, and his teammate shot them all down with his rifle, with stunning accuracy.

"I can't believe I failed to notice how great you are viz your veapons." Medic laughed heartily, impressed by the endeavors, "Your coordination, balance, sense of direction – all very admirable qualities."

"Bahh, it-it's nothin', really..," The Australian rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Ya know, I could teach ya how to shoot this thing."

"Oh, no, zhat's ok." He got up from his seat with a huff, brushing fallen debris off of his dark pants, "I should probably get back to my vork anyvays."

"Ah, come on, it wont take that long." Sniper pressed, waving his hand in a motion telling him to sit back down, "Sit your arse back down, it might help ya in controllin' the haphazard fire o'that syringe gun a' yours."

"Hmm...," The doctor gave this a good once-over thought, and shrugged, despite being a little unsure, "If you say so. But after zhis, I'll have to get back to my papervork. No exceptions."

"Nice!" He seemed to perk up quite a bit, quick to reach for the other's chair to pull it closer to him, then eagerly awaited the doctor. Medic sighed, a slightly embarrassed smile spread on his face as he moved to sit back down. Handing him his gun, Sniper began instructing him on how to handle it. "Alright, now hold it up to your shoulder, grip the handle, and have a firm hold on the middle of it."

"Ja...Alright...," The doctor blindly agreed.

"Ok, now," Sniper grabbed an empty beer bottle, running off of the deck to place it a ways away. As he walked back towards Medic's position, about half-way through, he continued his instruction, "Alright, now lean forward with the barrel touching the rail an' lift it to your eyes."

Doing just that, the German knew to look through the scope and focus it on the slightly blurred vision of the lone bottle. Sniper jumped back onto the wooden deck and sat back down, just as his teammate grew a little eager.

"What you'll need to do," he said in a soft voice, "is wait until everythin's completely still and then-"

Medic fired the rifle, shouting as the recoil knocked him back into the chair with enough force to cause the chair to topple over backwards. Sniper couldn't help but burst out laughing, even as he helped him up, despite being glared at the entire time. The two looked out to the not-too-distant horizon in which the bottle sat, completely unharmed.

"Let's try again."

"Vhat!?" Medic was obviously displeased, "Not a chance! I let you get avay viz vone small lesson – I do not need an entire lecture. I zhink I can manage viz my syringe gun very well on my own."

"Naw, you're just stallin'." Sniper chuckled, reloading the rifle for him, "You prolly couldn't shoot a target if it was ol' Blutarch himself."

"You know I am not one to stoop to zhat level of immature come-backs." He rolled his eyes, but moved back to his seat anyways, grabbing the gun, "However...if it makes you happy, zhen fine."

Sniper visibly rejoiced, which Medic thought was out of his character, and scooted the seat closer to his as he sat down once again. The first steps were repeated, cutting off the marksman's attempt to politely reiterate, but he quickly intervened the doctor before he repeated his mistake.

"Make sure you've got a tight grip on that; get ready to pull down once you shoot." He leaned in a little too close to Medic, squeezing his hand as the doctor held onto the rifle, tipping the barrel upwards and easing it over the rail.

"Uh...Alright...," Medic uneasily shifted under the Sniper's grasp, but took it as some kind of culture/custom difference and peeked through the scope.

"Now...breathe...focus...," He spoke softer, beginning to whisper, closing in on the German's face, "and..."

"Reiß dich am riemen!" The doctor freaked out, pushing off Sniper with his elbow and jumping out of the chair. Instinctively, he pointed the rifle at him, but realized his mistake in the situation and somewhat dropped it to the floor. He stared at his humiliated teammate for a bit, "Zhis is not like you! You're known for self-control und reservation – vhat has come over you?"

"I-I can explain!" The Australian attempted to defend himself, rising from his chair.

"Oh, zhis better be good!"

"Ya see...you're really the most respectable member on this team, and ya know, I thought maybe if we got to know each other–"

"Alright, I've heard enough." Medic promptly exited, leaving Sniper to himself, "_Please_ pull yourself togezher."

"But –! Doc –! Bah," Sniper kicked a support beam, swearing under his breath. Maybe next time, he thought. There's always a next time.

* * *

The Medic swiftly marched through the halls, eager to get back to his workspace. That was a really close call with the Sniper back there, and he wasn't intending for it to escalate like it had. Lunch was in an hour, and he knew the Aussie would be there, waiting to make matters right. The good doctor supposed it was impossible to avoid him forever, but he'd rather not have to deal with things like this right away. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that situations like this would occur, but he still refused to believe what he had just been subject to. Teammates just should not get together – besides, work was his top priority at this time.

He was only half-way through to his room when he ran into a small, jumpy frame.

"Woah! Hey, Doc!" Scout beamed with that smile that would make a young girl's heart melt, but made Medic uneasy, "Where ya headed?"


	3. Part 3 - The Bronx Cheer

"Oh...Herr Scout...," Medic stifled his panting, and gave an unnerved smile back, "You scared me."

Scout shifted on his feet, nervously chuckling back and muttering a 'sorry, doc'.

"If you must know," The doctor glanced back toward the area he just came from, as if frightful of the Sniper appearing behind him like a certain Frenchman, "I am headed back to my lab. Now, if you'll excuse m-"

"Oh, dat's cool, can I come?" Scout wasted no time suggesting the idea.

"I am a very busy man, Scout-"

"No problem, Doc, ya wont even know dat I'm dere!"

"I find zhat highly unlikely." Medic spoke under his breath as Scout continued.

"I am goin' ta shut right the hell up an' let you do your work. I am gonna be quieter than a goddamn _church mouse_. Jus' you wait n' see, Medic!" Scout began lightly bouncing on his feet, "C'mon, let's go, you need ta do some science an' I—I'm bored as all hell!"

"Vell you're certainly eager to just _sit zhere_ und do _nozhing_." He crossed his arms and creased his brow, "Is everyvone else busy?"

"Nah, they're just grumpy er some shit." Scout avoided Medic's relentless glare, "Not dat I wanted to talk to 'em. Bunch a shmucks anyways. Figured givin' you a shot would be worth it. So whaddya say?"

"Ahh, very well." He rolled his eyes, sighing as he moved on, "Come viz me."

"Hot dang!" Scout leaped for joy a bit, then regained his composure, "I-uh..I mean, thanks. Heh."

Medic looked Scout up and down, questioning his teammate, but went against what instinct warned him about and shrugged it off. There was no way this boy would even think about doing that. Besides, he's seen him get over-excited before, usually over food or a TV show and the occasional comic book. Scout was a very confusing boy – still young and prideful, still full of energy and wonder – and the doctor just had to get used to that.

He continued along his way, with Scout patiently trailing behind him. He knew where they were going, and usually he'd be racing ahead, but he's been acting strange all day so far. Perhaps it really had to do with...no! That's still preposterous! What would contaminated water have to do with a shift in personality changes? Still, Medic thought, he could get him to run a few tests with him – which at this time, he seems like he'd be more than eager to do.

* * *

"So, uh...Medic." Scout rubbed his hands together, finally in the Infirmary after a long, silent walk there, "What do ya do in here all day, anyways?"

"Zhat's classified." Medic shook his head. He'd been over this with Scout many times before. "I vork on my machinery, sort papervork, und many ozher zhings I can not tell you."

"Oh, come on, Doc." Scout put his hands on his slim hips, "We're teammates! What – does dis gotta do with the lady upstairs?"

"If by zhat, you mean zhe Administrator," Medic went to sit in his chair, looking back to the mess he had left some time ago, "Zhen, yes. It's all part of my contract. Just like it's part of yours."

Scout searched the air for memories, then suddenly remembered the pretenses of his very own contract. There were things he wasn't supposed to discuss with his teammates, but really, he signed without even looking at the darn thing. It wasn't until a sharp warning and the threat of permanent death later that he was forcefully read his own contract. Hell, there were many things he couldn't even tell his own _mother_. Scout breathed out of his nose, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought.

"Scout."

He snapped back to reality, looking around the room to find the doctor sitting at his desk, hands forming a bridge under his nose as his elbows rested on the desk's surface. "Y-yeah? What is it?"

"You really did keep you vord." Medic couldn't help but smirk, "You haven't said a zhing for fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen–!? Geeze!"

"Oh, ja." Medic gave this some thought, then motioned towards himself, "Scout, come here."

"Uhh, ok...?" The Bostonian cautiously made his way over to the good doctor, sitting in an empty space cleared for him on the desk.

Medic took out a small flashlight and switched it on, sliding over to the Scout and placing a hand on his shoulder, "I want you to look at me, und only me."

"No problem..." Scout stifled a chuckle, eagerly gazing at the German man.

With that, Medic used the flashlight over the young man's eyes, causing his pupils to shrink. The doctor studied them with utmost patience, flicking the light over him after a few moments. He then asked for Scout to follow the flashlight with his eyes, testing his coordination. Everything was as normal as it could be, at least with these simple tests.

"Scout," He spoke his name once more, "Zhis may sound strange, but...how did zhe ozhers feel about me before zhe vater incident?"

"Well, dat is kinda strange, but to be honest," Scout shrugged, lifting his hands to further express confusion, "I dunno. Everyone's so secretive about dey're opinions on one anotha. Why worry 'bout dem anyways, when you got a guy like me?"

"Vhat do you mean by zhat?" Medic was almost set on internal panic. It already pained him to turn down Sniper, what if he had to turn down Scout as well? Please, oh _please_, don't let him be affected by this odd 'disease'.

"W-Well, I mean, you, uh...you're, um...," Scout averted Medic's curious, yet subtly frightened and confused gaze.

"Scout...How do you feel about me, right now, in zhis moment?" He slowly got up from his chair, still staring at his teammate, as if about to strike.

"What?" The young man scoffed, "I mean, come on, Medic, it's kinda obvious."

"Und zhat means...? Vhat?" The doctor puffed his chest out a bit, "I need your own opinion."

"Doc, ok, look," Scout slipped off of the desk, pacing around the German, "You're a super neat fella an' all, an' I respect the hell outta you, but lately you've been makin' it kinda hard for me."

"Vhat do you mean by...?"

"Ya know, for a smart guy, you're bein' kinda dumb right now." He smirked, "Doc, when I see you, I says to myself, 'Hot damn, dat's the finest piece a' action dat eva walked on dis battlefield'. I mean, here you are, all fine an' strappin', wavin' around your healin' shit, readin' your fancy books, all a' dat shit – and here goes me, a smooth dappa fella with looks dat could literally kill! It don't take a genius ta do the math!"

There was a long pause of disbelief from the Medic before he spoke again, "Get out of my office."

"What?!" Scout yelped, afraid he had screwed up beyond the point of revival, "I am _not_ goin' anywhere! Not until I get an answer!"

"Scout, no amount of chicken-buckets or svearing in zhe vorld could get me to change my mind! You are sick, und I am sorry, because it is my fault." Medic yanked out his bonesaw from a stand on the wall beside him, then pointed it at Scout, "You need to leave _now_, before my presence makes it vorse!"

"C'mon, Doc, don't be like tha-," The blunt edge of the bonesaw was dug into his chest as he stepped forward, prompting and exclamation of pain.

"Do not test me, Herr Scout." Medic burned his gaze deep into the young man's eyes.

"Alright, fine." The Bostonian turned to leave, when suddenly Medic got an idea.

"Vait, before you go!"

"Yea—OUCH!"

The doctor shoved a needle into his teammate's arm, sucking out a sample of blood before removing it.

"What the crap was dat for!?" The poor boy rubbed the still-bleeding spot.

"You vill see. Now, if you vould please?" He motioned towards the door, prompting a very disgruntled Scout to leave the curious doctor's infirmary. Medic studied the syringe as if expecting blatantly visible results, now half-aware of the Bostonian pushing open a door to exit.


	4. Part 4 - Nothing but Alkali Metal

"Doc? Are you in here?" A distinct Southern voice filled the previously silent room.

"Ja. Come in."

The Engineer didn't know what to expect when he entered the room. Maybe his teammate working on something dealing with paper, or taking a break and eating a sandwich. But no, there he was, full chemistry set out, scurrying back and forth between vials with safety goggles neglected. He was obviously doing blood-work, but something about him seemed more frantic than usual.

"What, uh...What ya been doin' in here all this time?" The Engineer tilted his head at the sight.

"Separating zhe biological und foreign components of Scout's blood." Medic almost dropped a palm-sized jar of some greenish liquid, quickly uncapping it and pouring it into a cylinder. "Luckily I've managed to figure out parts of zhe respawn technology enough to recreate it – look how much I've produced!"

Medic thoughtfully and enthusiastically grabbed two large jars of a thick red substance, grinning from ear to ear as he whipped around to show Engie, proud of his work.

"I'll be honest, it may be more zhan I need currently, but vhat I have left over will be valuable for research!" He carefully set the jars back down – among the five others that looked about the same.

"Yeah, uh...That's nice, Doc." The Engineer smirked a bit in response, "Heck, you seem as hyped about it as a housewife makin' jam for the neighbors."

The German doctor scoffed, turning back to a few beakers, "Why vouldn't I be? Every progression is a win on my behalf."

"Well, uh, listen...," He gestured towards the doors he entered, "Lunch is ready by now. I'd say ya better hurry up or else it'll get cold."

"Oh? Did you make it yourself?" Medic was half joking, and didn't expect Engineer to say yes. "Ah. Vell, as you can see, I am pretty busy at zhe moment."

"Aw, c'mon, Doc. It'd be mighty nice if you could come down and have some home cookin'." He removed his goggles to show respect. They were nice to wear, mostly during the day when everything was so bright outside. He could still see pretty well with them on, for some reason.

"I suppose I could...," The doctor put down his tools, glancing back to his teammate and partner in science, "Zhe only problem I face is putting my experiments on hold."

"What kind of chemicals are ya workin' with? Are they combustible?"

"Vell, no, but-"

"Do they erode anythin' or emit a powerful odor?"

"Not at all-"

"If there's no problem, then you got nothin' to worry about!" The Southerner reassured him positively, giving a sincere grin.

"I know zhat! It's just, vell," Medic sighed, now facing the Engineer, "It's zhat feeling – zhe vone you get when you have an idea, und you're afraid of it disappearing vonce you get distracted."

"Yeah, happens to the best of us." He strode over and patted the doctor's back, ushering him to follow suit, "But I'll be damned if you don't take a break from all this hard work you're doin'!"

"I suppose you're right." Medic, fixing his glasses, nodded and decided to walk with his teammate.

* * *

The doctor was too focused on his thoughts to pay attention to what he was eating. He was moreso hyped on thinking about his current project of unveiling why the Scout and possibly his other teammates had taken more than a liking to him. As he wondered, he unceremoniously shoveled food into his mouth as quickly as what little manners he remembered would allow him. Chemical names and hypotheses fluttered through his brain as he kept a strong gaze focused on the center of the table, between himself and the Engineer.

"Doc." The Southerner, arms folded on the table, wasn't eating. He'd been staring at his teammate eat for the past few minutes.

"Mm?" Medic finally looked up from his scientific stupor laced with messy eating habits.

"I gotta tell you somethin'." His firm stare was focused on the other. Medic swallowed, motioning for him to continue after a short pause. "Well, I...ahh, this ain't the easiest thing to tell ya...Somethin's wrong. With me, I mean, and the others."

The German gave no reaction or slight of emotion in response. He merely stared back, sitting straight up now.

"Doc, I like ya, ok? More than I usually would." Engineer removed his hard hat, uneasily scratching his head, "I'm sure the others do as well. I haven't figured out why, but every time I see or think of ya, I keep fightin' the urge to just...yaknow, do romantic stuff with ya. It's the reason I took up makin' ya lunch. It's weird. What do you think?"

"Ach, not you too...," Medic sighed, using his right hand to rub his temples as he continued, "I knew everyvone vas acting odd for a reason, but I vasn't sure vhat. Zhere has to be somezhing..."

"Do ya think it's some somethin' to do with the watertower incident?"

"Vhat vould water have to do viz everyvone suddenly becoming addicted to me? It sounds like zhe most bird-brained idea...," He looked away, searching for answers, but his eyes landed back on the Engineer, "Vhat else are you experiencing? Is zhere any reason to 'like me'?"

"Ah, there's a _million_ reasons to like you! Aha...," He caught himself and threw his hardhat back on, "Uhm...I mean, uh...I – I guess ya smell nice?"

"Hm." It took the doctor a few seconds before things began to click, "My smell! Of course!"

"I don't follow, Medic." Engineer watched as his teammate stood from his chair excitedly.

"People are attracted to immune systems zhat are opposite of zheir own – zhat in itself comes out as a smell." Medic used frantic hand gestures to emphasize his epiphany, "Somezhing vas in zhat water zhat affected your immune systems, causing all of you to become attracted to me – und I vas out of zhe range of zhe flood!"

"And that would explain why everyone can't stand each other...," He stood as well, "Finding someone just like you is incompatible, and when they move in on the 'territory' that _is_..."

"I need to get back to my lab!" Medic bent over to shove a few more forkfulls of mashed potatoes into his mouth, then chugged the glass of water that came with it, before rushing himself out the door.

The Engineer still stayed put, watching the doctor leave, then looked down to the plate. He guessed he'd clean up, then.

He barely took note of someone tiptoeing behind him, moving from one exit to the other. This mysterious person would have to wait – and to be honest, he did not care much at all for it. They rifled through a drawer or two and left through the same door Medic had exited from. A sudden shock of panic rose through the mind of the Engineer, but it was unfamiliar to him, so he pushed it down and blamed it on bad water.


	5. Part 5 - Aramid with Flames

The Pyro didn't want to disturb his engineering friend as he passed through the kitchen. He had seen how angry everyone had been with each other, so he knew that being around the others would only bring himself harm. He only wanted to get one of the many lighters he kept in the kitchen, in a big drawer, and thankfully the Engineer didn't really respond to the shuffling noises he couldn't help but make.

His goal was to get to the doctor. Something strange had been happening to him; bright, colorful fumes were emanating from the Medic. They were very pretty and almost irresistible, but Pyro had a stronger mind than that. Still, he felt he should do something about it – maybe Medic just wanted to feel pretty. Pyro would do anything for the doctor; he was such a nice man, and if he wanted to feel pretty, then by gosh, would he help him out with that! And that's just what he was up to.

Pyro stopped by his room to gather a bundle of flowers he had found, then continued in the path the Medic took. Countless trips to the infirmary left an imprint in his memory as to how to get there, though he did visit considerably less times than his friends. Pyro's heart fluttered once he made it to the door. Maybe the doctor wouldn't like his gifts? Oh, how horrible that would be! The firestarter didn't want to risk embarrassment for something as small as what he was going to give to his friend. Still, he had to open the door and help him out with his quest to be beautiful.

The Medic was inside, fretting over a few jars of sparkling liquids, still sporting the colorful wisps about him. Rainbow clouds of smoke puffed out of a beaker, causing the Medic to exclaim to himself what a horrible job he was doing. Pyro tilted his head, inching closer to his friend, wondering why in the world he thought he was doing a bad job when he made such wonderful things! He hesitated in making his presence known, holding the flowers and lighter behind his back as carefully as possible. He was found out, however, by a very frightened Medic who turned around to grab something from his desk, leaping backward and yelping at the sight of his teammate.

"Pyro! Mein gott!" The doctor shouted, catching his breath, "Vhat is it you vant!?"

Though he was a little taken aback by his friend's shouting, he fumbled with the flowers behind his back and lit them on fire, causing them to glow bright, vivid colors. He produced them to the Medic as a shy little kid would.

"Sparklers." The German laughed a bit, relieved from his work with a bit of Pyro's innocent humor, "Zhank you, Pyro. I needed zhat."

Emboldened, the pyromaniac bounced on his feet a little, glad that he had brightened his friend's day. Without asking, he grabbed an empty mug off of Medic's desk and dropped the flowers into it, putting his hands to his face and watching them glow.

"Ahh...Pyro?" The doctor tilted his head a little, gaining the maniac's attention, "Were you...affected by zhe vater...in any vay?"

He cocked his head as well after turning to his friend. He understood his teammates just fine, but sometimes they said the strangest things. Was Medic referring to the water they drank? Or was it the flood of that icky mucky sludge from the other day? And how would that even affect him? So many questions!

"Do you understand vhat I am saying?" Medic creased his brow, focusing on the goggles of the has-mat suit, standing straight up by now. The Pyro shrugged in response.

"Alright," he continued, sighing in annoyance for having to stop his chemistry work, "Lets do some tests..."

The good doctor redirected the genderless team member to a nearby gurney, asking him to sit as he pulled up his desk chair. Medic supposed this would work too, considering he should test out his new theory on someone willing enough to subject themselves to him. Pyro was usually just the person to do so, though he did have a prefence about keeping his suit on. Something to do with the feeling of comfort it gave. Perhaps it was a security blanket or sorts? Ah, but those were thoughts too stale for their current predicament, so he focused on the matter at hand.

"Alright. Vhat I need you to do is, I need you to tell me a few things...," Medic rethought this. Pyro mumbled behind a gasmask almost all the time, and when he wasn't doing so, he was no where to be found. He sat in his chair, peering up at the Pyro, "I'll stick to yes or no questions."

Pyro nodded. Anything for the doctor! He wondered to himself if this was something serious or not, and became a little worried. He didn't mix well with serious issues. When ever he tried to focus on something other than fire and his friends, he'd grow a little..._antsy_.

"Do I smell good to you?"

A nod.

"Do you like me?"

Another nod.

"Do you, eh...Do you have...feelings for me?"

He tilted his head.

"Vell, ah...Do you like me, in a vay zhat is more zhan just friendship?"

Pyro hesitated, then shrugged, looking away.

"Just as I thought." Medic grabbed a notepad and a pen from a nearby table, handing them to the Pyro, "Tell me exactly what you are feeling in this instance."

Pyro grabbed the materials, and stared at them, as if he didn't know what they were for in the first place. Medic reminded him by opening the notepad and placing the hand with the pen onto the paper.

"Please write vhat I asked of you – do not draw instead."

He looked from Medic back to the notepad and began scribbling words onto the paper. A few minutes pass by. Writing English is not one of his strong points. When he was finished, he shyly handed the paper back to the doctor, who swiftly went to check what was on it.

The page read,

"i juzt w aNT yOu tO be happi"

Medic understood, and gave a wide grin, chuckling to himself. He patted his friend's back. The maniac was so innocent in his thinking – Medic could tell that much. He wanted the best for his friends, and didn't even know what he was doing was pure heartless murder. Anyone would be too frightened to be around him, but the doctor knew better. He knew who he was after all.

"Ja, I know, fraulein." Still smiling, he went to place the notepad and pen on his desk, "You're hard to read, but you alvays make my day better. Come here."

Pyro, happy as could be, jumped off of the gurney and made his way towards the doctor, who turned around just to give him a small hug. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it still made the Pyro bounce a little, clapping his hands.

A deep voice was heard calling for the doctor from down the hall. Medic knew who was coming.

"Herr Pyro," Medic put a hand to his friend's shoulder, "It is time to leave. I doubt you vould like vhat's about to come next."

With that, he was led to the back door, and left as quietly as possible.


End file.
